


I see it was a rich capitalist asshole who was behind it all, how shocking.

by junebugtwin



Category: Scooby Doo - All Media Types
Genre: Attempt at Humor, F/F, Found Family, Gen, Mild Language, Non-Graphic Violence, Unreliable Narrator, daphne is gay and so is velma, dumb mystery solving dorks becoming best friends, my take on the scooby-doo franchise, velma has powers, yes it is as weird as it sounds
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-04
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:55:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26807722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/junebugtwin/pseuds/junebugtwin
Summary: Velma Dinkley had powers. Velma Dinkley also dropped out of school halfway through grade eleven after blackmailing the mayors daughter for five thousand dollars cash, popped by Willow’s house- an old lesbian with a bird hoarding problem she was basically best-friends with, bought an ancient van from her that she kept from her hippie days, packed her shit while her mom was out on a date with the guy she went to pottery class with, including her fake ID and driver’s license, and drove halfway across the country to start an investigative business, which was mostly just her stopping rich capitalist assholes from doing crime while dressed up like a ghost/lizard/big-foot/Pokémon/robot (Which was a more persistent problem than she’d realized it would be), and bullying the locals into paying her for it.Y’know, just like most people do. What could she say, she had to find herself.
Relationships: Daphne Blake & Velma Dinkley & Fred Jones & Norville "Shaggy" Rogers & Scooby Doo, Daphne Blake/Velma Dinkley
Comments: 5
Kudos: 20





	I see it was a rich capitalist asshole who was behind it all, how shocking.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know what I'm doing, all I know is I was thinking about how weird the show Scooby-doo Mystery Incorporated was (if you haven't watched I encourage you to at least look up a summary, it is absolutely wild) and considering what I would do with the Scooby-doo franchise/universe if I was in control. The answer is this apparently. I dodn't know who exactly the target audience is for this fic, but I'm willing to find out.
> 
> (Please comment if you liked it, and thanks for reading <3)

Okay, stupid in retrospect, but she hadn’t even realized anything was weird until she was nine.

But in her defense, it wasn’t like there were giant flashing signs overlaid over reality, or some sort of spooky godlike voice in her head, in fact, it was just _her_ voice. Like, her normal think-y voice that felt as normal as it always did. It just happened to be that every so often her own inner monologue would remark upon the truthful-ness of the words of the people around her.

She hadn’t thought it was _powers_. And why would she? Even as a kid Velma was logical, or an approximation of it- her parents were as normal and non-mutant-y as you could get, and she’d never been kidnapped by government agents or aliens (that she knew of).

It was just a quirk, and frankly, given that she used to go through other kids backpacks so she could judge what kind of person they were, not even her weirdest one. So she was a little obsessed with honesty- it wasn’t like anyone particularly liked being lied to.

And then she was nine and her dad was chuckling as he said he had to go to the office late because he was behind on work (lie) and her mom was saying it was no big deal (lie) with a wave of her hand, and when they argued they said that they thought it was normal for parents to fight this much (lie) and they hugged and looked each other in the eye, and said ‘I love you’ (lie).

Thankfully she only had to endure five months of the bullshit before her mother filed for a divorce, pushed by the discovery her father was cheating with his boss behind her back.

It was at that point that the little coincidences became too giant for her to ignore any further, too suspicious for her to simply push under the rug as her just being weird.

So she played around with it for a bit, testing it on her dim-witted classmates and slightly less-dim-witted mother. (Her mom got her in the divorce, and her father got her brother. She wasn’t sure who had it worst honestly, her brother was stuck with a somewhat chauvinistic ass who thought watching funniest home video compilations was the height of entertainment, and she was stuck with a mom who insisted on gallivanting around the countries shittiest attractions wasting her money and time soul-searching and trying to date the entire cast of America’s Most Wanted in America’s least wanted motor homes.)

The results were pretty conclusive- she was able to tell whether or not a person was telling the truth, just so long as they actually spoke- she wasn’t a mind reader. She also wasn’t fool proof- if someone thought they were being honest when really they misunderstood or were tricked then she had no way of knowing- her powers were more of a ‘feelings don’t care about your facts’ than the other way around.

The power was about as awesome as it was annoying- people lied pretty much constantly, to strangers, to friends, to themselves even. People lied when you asked how their day was, what they thought of your outfit, what they were doing on the weekend, if they thought the homework was hard, their opinions on people, politics, etcetera.

To some extent she got it- people didn’t like to think others were judging them for any perceived social slight, and expressing yourself honestly in a country where the standard and expected response to ‘how are you’ was to say ‘fine’ no matter how obviously shitty you were doing was hard.

But it didn’t exactly breed optimism about having a genuine relationship with someone when you knew most weren’t.

It had some upsides other than the obvious though.

Velma was a pretty easy target for bullying- she was a short, chubby female nerd who was openly gay and obviously poor, who was overly blunt and unashamed, and was also unfortunately named Velma, which might have been the biggest blow. (Just kidding it was the gay thing)

But luckily, all she had to do was some amateur sleuthing, and a little careful listening-in- find a secret or a flaw or a little oopsie someone’s rich parents paid away, and then quietly bring it up to her victim in a public place (so they couldn’t just beat her up obviously) . If they tried to bluff their way out of it, or argue the opposite, she could just calmly look them in the eye and with absolute certainty tell them that they were _lying_. That tended to freak people out pretty good- conviction and confidence were hard things to fake, and most people could tell when you weren’t.

Most people could tell when you _knew_ something.

Anyway, then she dropped out of school halfway through grade eleven after blackmailing the mayors daughter for five thousand dollars cash, popped by Willow’s house- an old lesbian with a bird hoarding problem she was basically best-friends with, bought an old van from her that she kept from her hippie days, packed her shit while her mom was out on a date with the guy she went to pottery class with, including her fake ID and driver’s license, and drove halfway across the country to start an investigative business, which was mostly just her stopping rich capitalist assholes from doing crime while dressed up like a ghost/lizard/big-foot/Pokémon/robot (Which was a more persistent problem than she’d realized it would be), and bullying the locals into paying her for it. 

Y’know, just like most people do. What could she say, she had to find herself.  
  


\-----

It took a bigger person than Velma to admit she needed help, mainly because she was determined and stubborn and pettier her mother without coffee. She probably would have just kept doing everything by herself, but then a man dressed as a ghost skeleton almost drowned her in a lagoon and failing that, broke her arm in two places and tried to poke her eyes out with his fake creepy plastic Walmart-Halloween-ass bone fingers, and she had to admit she was slightly in over her head.

It turned out having a built in truth detector in your head and an odd amount of experience pulling masks off of Mr. Monopoly-look-alikes was not an indicator of fighting experience, and did not make her immune to blunt force trauma.

Who knew.

So she was looking to hire help. Not exactly something she could just advertise in the newspaper (because what she was doing was mostly illegal) or put out front of her place of business (because it was a shitty van that smelled like weed and looked like the concept of tie-dye had barfed all over it).

So she had to get somewhat creative. Which meant stalking. ‘Getting somewhat creative’ meant stalking more often than one would assume actually.

It was like a fun road trip, except it wasn’t because it was mostly looking through small town newspapers and talking to ancient looking old ladies for bizarre and dangerous crimes most people would just think were fake. A lot of it was wasting time on worthless goose-chases, though probably less than if she didn’t have truth-telling powers.

She was looking for people who had experiences even slightly similar to hers, who’d seen some weird shit and not only survived, but actually done something about it.

This was as slim a category as it possibly could be honestly. It turned out that most people didn’t spend their weekends struggling to find enough duck tape to trap a hive of biting flies that were being mind-controlled by some rich guy whose main motivation was that he wasn’t rich enough and didn’t want to solve his problems with a gun and mindless state-sanctioned violence like a real warm-blooded American.

She did find somebody though. Eventually. After a whole-ass year.

Her name was Daphne Blake, and reading her file in the dark of the police station she wasn’t supposed to be in was probably the most satisfying moment of her life.


End file.
